


Lady Veronica: Bunyip

by Solitarycafe



Category: Original Work
Genre: Australia, F/F, Modern Era, Mythical Beings & Creatures, Original Character(s), Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-17
Updated: 2019-02-17
Packaged: 2019-10-30 14:51:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17830646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Solitarycafe/pseuds/Solitarycafe
Summary: A mysterious white haired woman seeks out a mythical creature and gets in touch with her wilder side.





	Lady Veronica: Bunyip

**Author's Note:**

> This is a character introduction story for an OC named Veronica Ishtani. The characters in the story belong to 'Scionart' and are part of a commissioned work.

“I think this is the one,” The woman commented as her long white fingernails grabbed the corner of a time worn page. “Yes… the bunyip.”  
The ground beneath her shifted slightly, and she shifted with it out of habit as she read over the next page, “Ever heard of it?”  
A rough, jovial laugh came from one end of the cabin, “The bunyip? No… can’t say that I have. Is it a bunny that’s also a…” the voice chuckled, “Never mind: I’m not that clever.”  
The woman crossed her legs and snickered, “That’s not why I keep you around, Captain Skully; don’t worry.”  
The two were occupying a fairly large boat cabin, and the man looked up from his charts and replied, “True enough; I was never known for my sharp wit or clever tongue… though there may still be some other stories circulating about my tongue after all these years.”  
The woman laughed as she set the book down gingerly. The book must have been quite old, and it’s title was barely legible and written in a language that most people wouldn’t even recognize.  
“I’ve heard some stories from some of your crewmembers; you must have been quite popular with the ladies,” the woman gave the man a sideways smile as she swept a lock of fine, silver white hair from her brow. Her voice was commanding and feminine, but there was a great deal of control in its undertones.  
“Well, perhaps, but they always wanted to kill me after I ran off with their money in the morning…”  
“Captain David Skully!” The woman pretended to be surprised, “You, stealing from innocent ladies who were just looking for a night of passion? How terrible of you.”  
“I’m a reformed man, Lady Veronica,” the Captain grinned. “Speaking of reformed, I’ve altered our course. You still wish to dock at Sydney, correct?”  
“I do, yes,” the woman nodded.  
“How long are you planning on being gone? I’m just want to make sure the boys aren’t drunk off their asses when you get back.”  
“At least a week,” Veronica Stretched languidly and the swirling, almost otherworldly series of white tattoos on her left arm reflected brightly in the sunlight coming through the windows. Her complexion was exotically brown and naturally tanned; many assumed that she was Arab or Indian in descent, but both her features and demeanor spoke of a far more complex ethnic background.   
“It may be longer. You know how to keep them in check, David. If you need any extra funds, or you don’t hear from me in twelve days, you know what to do.”  
“Aye,” the man nodded as he walked over and picked up the old book. He flipped through a few pages carefully and shook his head, “You think this thing really exists? I mean… I know you’ve found some pretty interesting things over the years. God knows that I’ve seen some things too, cause’ of you, that I wouldn’t have believed if I hadn’t seen em’ myself. But this thing…” he looked over the sketched creature that resembled something out of a lovecraft novel, “Makes my skin crawl just thinking about it. When was the last unconfirmed sighting?”  
“1870,” Veronica piped as she took the book from the Captain and cradled it under her arm.  
“Cold trail,” the man commented as he tilted his cap and whistled.  
“I’ll warm it up,” the woman smiled knowingly, “Some coals just need to be blown on a little.”

Four days passed like the blink of an eye. One of the reasons Veronica loved her expeditions was because it was easy for her to lose track of time. Whether she was slogging through an unforgivingly hot desert or mucking her way through a mosquito ridden swamp, she loved the feeling of being able to turn off her smartphone, take off her watch and simply move through each hour instinctually.  
Of course, lady Veronica Ishanti was a woman who loved her comforts. At home (she had several to choose from) she was very much a creature of habit, and her hygiene routine was as strict as her careful stock investing.  
There was something about being in the wilderness though: it was like a different world with different rules. In populated areas, she rather enjoyed playing games up and down various social ladders, but out in the middle of nowhere she could do and say anything she wished.  
And at that moment she was very much in the middle of nowhere.  
The white haired woman had traveled through the densely populated city of Sydney, Australia and headed north into the lesser populated areas of New South Wales. Much of her time had been spent scouring libraries and speaking with locals about native lore. Eventually, she was led to a group of modern Aborigines who (after she’d insisted that she was serious) referred her to a local guide.  
The guide’s name was Inala. She was a young Aboriginal woman in her late twenties, who was fluent in many Aboriginal dialects. She was understandably hesitant at first.  
“You’re serious?” She replied after Veronica told her what she was looking for.  
Veronica smiled and nodded patiently, “I am. I’ve been told that you’re the person to talk to; people say you know everyone.”  
Inala crossed her arms and smirked, “You know that the bunyip is just a silly fairytale, right?”  
“I think I’ve heard every variation of the story and the description a hundred times over,” Veronica laughed, “But I want to find out for myself.”  
The guide didn’t look convinced, “Why do you want to find it? No, I suppose the better question is, what would you do with it if you did find it?”  
The tall, fit woman’s smile never wavered, “Look at it. Touch it maybe… if it lets me. I travel the world in search of mythical, or supposedly mythical, creatures. If it’s real, on any level, I’ll write down a description and add it to my library. If it’s not, then I’ll have gained a fantastic tour of this side of the continent.”  
The woman chuckled, “I can’t figure out if you’re joking or not.”  
Over the years, the mysterious, ambitious adventurer had been met with an endless stream of jeering, shaming and incredulous expressions. In the beginning, she’d attempted to hide her reasons for wanting to go a certain place, but she’d learned that it was better to be honest and upfront.  
The direct approach usually produced faster results, along with a little something else. Veronica reached into her pack and produced an assortment of green and white bills, “I’m completely serious. If you can give me a lead, even a small one, I’ll give you a thousand dollars.”  
The woman’s eyes widened when she saw the money, “You don’t need to do that…” she cleared her throat and blinked, “I charge twenty dollars an hour. I might know somebody,” she glanced at the money and shook her head, “But it’s about a three hour drive.”  
“Three hours there, three hours back, plus gas and snacks on the way,” Veronica chuckled as she replaced half of the money. “Tell you what: I’ll give you five hundred if you take me there. If this person knows anything about the bunyip, I’ll give you another five hundred. That’s a six hour drive and at least two tanks of gas, so consider the extra a tip for not writing me off as totally crazy like most everyone else I’ve talked to.”  
The woman smiled slowly and reached out for the money, “All right… deal!”

-Collarenebri-

Seven hundred kilometers North of Sydney sat one of the smallest, most sparsely populated towns that Veronica had ever seen.  
It was nearly five in the afternoon when the guide’s yellow jeep rolled past a sign with a picture of a few fish on it. Shortly thereafter, Inala turned the vehicle down a dusty, unmarked side road, where they traveled several more kilometers.  
Finally, they arrived at small, simple looking single story home that was little more than a shack. The area around it was flat and open, and there was nothing surrounding it save for low, dead looking grass.   
Veronica’s guide killed the engine and took a deep breath, “This is the place. Everyone calls this guy old Joe; I’m sure that’s not his given name, I believe that he’s Weilwan. He’s blind as a bat and last I heard he was ninety two years old. It’s been a few years since I’ve last spoken with him; I was working with some historians who wanted to tour the local Aboriginal graveyard. There are a few places in this area that are off limits to outsiders unless they have a guide, but I’m not sure he’s even alive anymore.”  
“No time like the present to find out,” Veronica hopped out of the jeep. “Does he speak English?”  
Inala shook her head, “I’ve heard that he used to speak a bit many years ago, but when I last spoke to him he only seemed to speak Ngiyambaa, which is a dead dialect. It’s a Pama language at heart, however, so we communicated well enough.”  
The two women hiked the short way to the entrance of the home, which seemed to be on the side of the building that faced away from the road.  
As they turned the corner, Veronica immediately noticed a deeply aged man sitting on a chair in front of the structure. The man turned at the sound of their footsteps and asked something aloud, neither alarm or welcoming present in his voice.  
It was a language that Veronica was unfamiliar with. She knew dozens of languages and could speak and write them fluently. Any language derived from the three main language roots she could, at the very least, understand if not speak.  
Inala spoke up, her voice calm and gentle.  
As the two approached and began to speak with one another, Veronica couldn’t help but smile. It was so refreshing to hear a language that she couldn’t understand a lick of, and she made a mental note to study a popular Aboriginal dialect at some point.  
The old man and the young woman spoke for a solid five minutes before Inala turned back to Veronica.  
“He says that he knows how to find the bunyip, but he doesn’t think you’re capable of doing it.”  
“Oh?” The brown skinned woman cocked her head, not the least bit insulted, “Why’s that?”  
“He says that the bunyip is a spiritual creature that’s deeply tied to the land. Someone who knows nothing of the land and is closed off from the natural will supposedly be blind to the experience. Tell me, Veronica, do you know anything of the dreaming?”  
She nodded, “I did quite a bit of research on the subject while my crew and I sailed here.”  
“Ah, so you know how important and deep rooted these beliefs are for my people?”  
Veronica smiled, “I do, and it’s certainly not my intention to…”  
“Don’t misunderstand me,” Inala cut her off gently. “I’m not saying that I myself believe everything that has been passed down, but the meaning of the dreaming is complicated. If I am to understand him correctly, he’s saying that you need to get into touch with the sacred realm on some level if you want to meet the creature. It sounds… a little crazy, to be honest.”  
The tall woman nodded once before stepping over to the old man. She crouched in front of him until she was face to face with him, and she took his hands into her own, “Look into my eyes,” she whispered to him.  
The old man’s face was gaunt and stacked with decades of wrinkles, but he looked up immediately and closed his hands around hers. His pupils were clouded and distant, but for a long time, the two made direct, unblinking eye contact.  
Then, the man spoke, squeezing her hands more tightly with a surprising amount of strength.  
Inala looked shocked. Even though she knew that the man was blind, for a moment it seemed like the woman she was guiding was actually making eye contact with him, “He says that you are strong...he...wants to know why you’re looking for it.”  
“Tell him that I’m only trying to shed a little light and understanding on the unknown, and that I wish the creature no harm.”  
The woman hesitated for a moment before relaying the message. In turn, the man released her hands and replied.  
“He wants you to meet him late this evening, around midnight, by the banks of the Barwon river; past the sign we passed on the road, he said.”  
Veronica stood slowly and smiled excitedly, “Tell him thank you.”  
The ancient man spoke once more, and Inala added, “He said that he can’t promise you anything… that you need to attract the creature with your strength of will.” She paused as the man continued, “The strong are attracted to the strong and the weak congregate to make up for their weakness; I’m not sure what that means, but I believe he’s saying that whether you find the bunyip or not will be entirely up to you. He’s going to… show you the way.”  
“That’s all I could possibly ask for,” Veronica took a step back, “I’ll be there.”

As small as the town was, it actually had a hotel with a fairly decent bar, and Veronica spent the rest of her evening having a few drinks and playing a bit of pool.  
She’d tried to convince Inala to go home, but her guide insisted that she go along to translate. Veronica knew that the woman was probably only staying with her because she was burning with curiosity, but she agreed; mostly because she was actually enjoying the woman’s company. Inala didn’t talk much unless she was asked a question, but she was good at pool and it was nice to have someone around to kill time with.  
Finally, it was nearly midnight and the two women headed back down the road. The night sky was brilliantly starlit, but the road was black and ominous. The air was warm and welcoming as the jeep was parked and the lights shut off, and Veronica took a deep breath in the darkness before she turned her flashlight on.  
It was Late February, which meant summertime for New South Wales. It was pleasantly humid, and Veronica pulled off her overshirt and slung it over the jeep door.  
“What are you doing?” Inala asked with a bit of concern as she flicked her light on.  
Beneath the shirt,Veronica was wearing a tight white tank top. She pulled a tie from her pack and began to tie up her hair, “Preparing myself. When one is heading into the spirit realm, one has very little need for secular things.”  
Inala chuckled, ‘You’re really serious about this, aren’t you? At first, I wasn’t sure; I thought you were just another rich, bored tourist looking for something outrageous to put a bullet into.”  
“I can’t blame you for thinking that,” Veronica finished tying up her hair and smiled. “A word before we head out?”  
Inala nodded, “Sure.”  
“During this… ritual, or whatever they may have me do, things might get a little weird. You might see me do some things that you wouldn’t have expected, or you might learn some things about the sort of person I am that you wouldn’t have guessed. I know that my looks and demeanor are a bit out of the ordinary, and I’m used to turning heads, but I never do anything simply to get attention. There are many, many things about myself that most people never get to see, and if you see any of those things, well… I’d appreciate it if you kept it to yourself.”  
Inala nodded and laughed lightly, “I could say the same about my people; I’m certainly not one to judge things that are different. Whatever happens tonight, I won’t tell anyone about it, you have my word.”  
“Thanks,” Veronica smiled genuinely, “Let’s go… I think I hear music up ahead.”  
Her guide frowned in the darkness, “Music? I don’t hear any music…”

The two spotted a fire some distance into the sparse forest. The closer they got to the river, the more trees there were, and most of them were hung with low, weeping branches that cast sad tendrils of shadow against their flashlights.  
The music, as Veronica had said she’d noticed, became obvious once they approached the fire. The low sounds of a skin drum and a bass rich didgeridoo pulsed around the area, and two women danced around the fire while they chanted.  
As if he’d felt their presence approaching, the old man came forward and thrust a bundle of things up towards Veronica. He was mostly naked, save for a scant wrap around his waist, and his entire body was painted here and there with white and orange. He said something she couldn’t understand, and Inala translated.  
“He wants you to put these on. They are readying the river for you, but he says that you must put your will forward. The women will paint you. Oh…” She paused, “He wants to know if you have a totem.”  
“In a manner of speaking,” Veronica took a deep breath. “This…” she reached down to her waist and pulled down her jeans slightly, “Is the symbol of my totem.”  
There, on her hip and just above her waist, was a pink tattoo with a very distinct shape.  
Inala nodded and relayed Veronica’s words. The man nodded and gestured to the two dancers, and they came bounding forward immediately.  
The guide shuffled back, “I’ll be here if you need me.”  
Veronica nodded and pulled off her shirt. Beneath it, she wore a grey sports bra. Immediately after, she untied her shoes and pulled them off. After unzipping her jeans and stepping out of them, she unhooked her bra and slipped it away from her body.  
Inala watched in fascination. Her newest customer was one of the most intriguing she’d ever come across, and she wondered how the woman had come across her fortune. Veronica was quite fit, that much was obvious, and the woman could see the outlines of Veronica’s abdominals muscles as she took off her bra. Veronica’s breasts were as full as her figure, and though the woman was tall and broad there was absolutely nothing masculine about her. Both her fingernails and toenails were decidedly long and pointed, and overall there was something about the woman that was more akin to beast than human.   
It wasn’t particularly interesting watching Veronica strip, and Inala’s idea of what was lewd, especially in regards to nudity, was probably much different than most peoples, but she couldn’t help but gasp when Veronica pulled pulled down her briefs.  
Veronica had a penis.  
Even flaccid, it was impressively sized, and something shiny and steel reflected from the underside of her member in the light of the fire.  
She’s… pierced? Inala thought to herself in dismay as the two nearly as naked women began to paint her ceremoniously.  
Veronica closed her eyes as she felt herself being covered. The two women dipped their fingers into wooden bowls and smeared her face, chest and arms with bright red and orange ochre. The other two men continued to play, one on the drums and the other on the didgeridoo.  
When she was finished being painted, Veronica looked fierce indeed, but she wore a look of calm as the women gestured for her to dress. Slowly and methodically, she took up the clothes that she’d been given and made herself a thong. After she’d covered her crotch, she did the same with her chest, wrapping her breasts up several times before tying the wrap up at her neck.  
Meanwhile, one of the women went to speak with the old man, and afterwards he approached her once more. He spoke to her, and she listened as if she understood every word he was saying.  
Inala stepped up to translate, still taken off guard by Veronica’s nature, but unwilling to be thrown off by something so inconsequential, “He wants to know how old you are and how it came to be that you are what you are.”  
Veronica laughed, “It’s a long, unbelievable story. As far as my age… I don’t know, to be honest. There was a time in my life where I was… detained, for quite awhile.” She looked into the old man’s blind eyes and smiled, “As far as my nature, let’s say that I’m neither male nor female… perhaps I’m something else entirely.”  
The old man cackled, seemingly understanding her, before he unfolded his hand and offered her what was in it. He spoke again, and once more, Inala translated.  
It’s pituri, a very potent tobacco mixed with some other ingredients. Put it under your tongue and hold it there. At first, it acts as a stimulant, then it acts as a depressant. It will help you find the creature. They will perform a ritual, the rest is up to you, he says.”  
Victoria nodded resolutely and took the pituri. She stepped up to the fire and sat down on on her knees, then she placed the tobacco in her mouth and waited.  
Acrid, smokey and sweet, she could almost feel the nicotine entering her bloodstream as she closed her eyes. The music moved through her, resonating with her mind and body as she pressed her palms against the dirt. Seconds or minutes passed, she couldn’t tell which, but soon, it came to her. Her mother’s instincts, her father’s blood, and the awakening of a power that was always quiet but never out of her reach.  
Inala watched raptly, now completely mesmerized by the scene. She’d seen hundreds of traditional dances from many Aboriginal tribes. She was so familiar with them that she’d become jaded, but she’d never seen any of her own people engage in one so passionately. Whoever the old man was, he must have held some sort of clout with the local tribes, and she realized once more that, like Veronica, there was always more to a person than first meets the eye.  
Veronica allowed herself to fall under the spell of the music. Giddy with excitement, the strong drug coursing through her, she growled loudly as the beat grew more frantic. Something powerful and otherworldly was vibrating through the earth; the river, its level low given the time of year, beckoned her. Something was calling her, challenging her, even, but she wasn’t ready to face it yet.  
It was almost as if something was teasing her, trying to to coax her into the river only to get lost. Somewhere in her consciousness, she knew better, and she grinned widely as her hair began to shimmer.  
Inala couldn’t blink. Something strange was starting to happen to Veronica, something unexplainable. She could feel the strength of the woman radiating outward: it was thrilling and dangerous and… undeniably sexual. Before she could question what she was feeling, Veronica growled loudly and stood. She began to move her fingers rhythmically, strumming them in the warm night air as she opened her eyes languidly.  
The painted women around the fire danced harder and faster as the drummer upped the tempo, and the old man began to chant into the flames.  
“I’m coming to meet you…” Veronica stared into the darkness beyond the fire, “Don’t disappoint me.”  
Inala looked on as something even more unprecedented happened. Veronica was… starting to grow horns from the top of her head. But no, she realized suddenly as she began to tremble from the sheer amount of energy the woman was exuding, she’d always had them, they were just… coming out into the open. Within seconds, a pair of glorious, charcoal grey horns were jutting from the top of her head, shining dully from the light of the fire and looking just as solid and strong as the rest of the woman. They curled inward and came to a wicked point on both ends, but not one of the native peoples performing the ritual seemed disturbed as they played on.  
“What are you?” Inala whispered to herself, both terror and wonder striking her motionless where she stood.  
Veronica fell to the ground once more, crouching into a feral, pouncing stance. She pressed her palms against the earth a second time, and this time she felt everything she needed to.   
Mud.   
Heat.   
Life seeping up through the Earth and millions of leaves decomposing in an endless cycle of life and death. She was ready to fall into it, to take it by force if need be. She bellowed into the night, uttering a sharp, cat like warcry, before she bounded forward straight through the fire, her bare feet flinging glowing embers everywhere.  
Inala’s eyes traced the woman’s movements for a few brief seconds before Veronica disappeared into the trees, sprinting like a demon being chased.

 

-Sydney-

“Can I get another one of these, please? This time, with a little extra vermouth.” Slender finger pushed an empty martini glass forward on a well polished bar.  
The bartender made brief eye contact with the smoky young woman and almost froze: her eyes were one of the most arresting sights he’d ever seen. One eye, the right, was brazenly gold, the other, a depthless, cool silver. He realized himself a moment later and nodded quickly, “Sure thing, miss,” he managed not to stammer as he pulled a shaker from beneath the counter.  
The girl smiled, the corner of her lips turning up haughtily, “You can’t really make it too strong, if that’s what you’re worried about, and the dryer the better.”  
Several seconds passed as the woman watched the nervous bartender work. She could feel nearly every eye in the place on her backside, but she knew no one would be brave enough to come talk to her.  
As women went, even rich ones, she was almost too beautiful. Her skin was as pale as sunlight against snow and her prominent features boasted of her obvious well breeding. Her hair, cut short and layered just above her shoulders, was as unique as her eyes: a stark, almost black, midnight blue. Nothing about her was synthetic, and, at the moment, she wasn’t even wearing makeup.   
She’d grown accustomed to being ignored, but she knew why, and she didn’t take it personally. It wasn’t as if anyone in a hundred kilometer vicinity was worth her time, anyhow, and almost nobody had the gall to simply walk up and…  
“Hey, shortstop… how you doing?”  
The girl's eyes widened as she turned, “V,Veronica?” Her eyes narrowed before they widened again. She felt a flurry of emotions and fought the urge to overreact. There was a part of her that despised how attached to the white haired woman she’d become, but she couldn’t help but stare into those sudden, striking violet eyes.  
One moment she’d been alone, the next…  
Their gaze locked for a breathless moment. Leila hadn’t had any time to prepare, and she was losing herself to Veronica’s nebulous gaze. In contrast, her own eyes seemed to light up; each iris silver and gold, as if she were basking in some sort of strange yet wonderful twilight sunset.   
Her senses crashed back down to her almost as soon as she’d lost them, and she pouted deeply, “I’ve been waiting for three days! How did you find me? You were supposed to call! I can’t believe you just…”  
Veronica pressed her index against the young woman’s lips, silencing her completely as she smiled, “You’ll forgive me… won’t you?”  
The distressed young woman almost melted as her lip trembled. Nobody, absolutely nobody else in the world could affect her the way Veronica could, and she simultaneously loved and hated that fact, “Yes… I suppose I must.” She smiled flirtatiously, her Russian accent coming through softly, “You’ll make it up to me?”  
Veronica met her smile, “Yes, Leila, as many times as I have to.”  
The blue haired girl shivered and giggled, “I hate you. I hate you for inviting me here and then leaving me around like some call girl that you can just…”  
“You’re welcome,” Veronica set a small box in front of the young woman on the bar, “Happy belated birthday.”  
Once more, the woman named Leila stopped talking and glanced at the box, “Bribery?”  
“No, a present. Now open it before I take it back, you ungrateful brat,” Veronica chuckled.  
Leila pursed her lips and grabbed the box. She opened it quickly without any fanfare and furrowed her brow when she saw what was inside, “It’s… a tooth?” She lifted it out of the box and examined it. It looked almost like a shark tooth, but it was flat like a moler, and it was as hard as a diamond. Its color was the purest white she’d ever seen, somehow whiter than any pearl, and Leila turned it in her fingers several times, “It’s beautiful, but…” her eyes widened, “Don’t tell me, is this…”  
“Hush, hush,” Veronica smiled at the bartender, who was obviously trying to pretend that he couldn’t hear every word they were saying, “I’ll tell you the story later, let’s just say it was a gift to me and I want you to have it. For now, let’s just relax.”  
“That’s all I’ve been doing,” Leila sighed with exasperation before settling back. “But yes, since you just got back, let’s relax a little.” Her crotch began to tingle, and she cleared her throat, “Veronica… I missed you.”  
The dark skinned woman nodded and smiled gently, “I missed you, too It's been nearly a week since I've...unwound,” Veronica whispered with a sultry grin. “Thanks for meeting me here.”  
“There was nothing going on at home, anyway. And geez, a week?” Leila muttered before changing the subject quickly; the bartender was stepping closer. “Things aren't as fun without you around,” She took her drink as the man set it in front of her.  
The bartender leaned forward slightly and gestured to Veronica, “Would you like a cocktail, miss?”  
Veronica tried not to laugh at the ‘miss’ title, “Oh god no, thank you, just a beer please,” she replied as she opened a notebook on the bar.  
The bartender nodded and turned to pour a glass as Leila scooted closer to her girlfriend. There was a considerable height difference between the two, and it was noticeable even while both of them were sitting, “What’s that? Memoirs of your adventure?”  
“Sort of. Just making some notes for later when I make my final report.”  
“Hmph,” Leila huffed, “All business as usual, I see.”  
Veronica reached for the woman’s hand and squeezed it, “You know that’s not true… I can be fun,” she added deliberately with an extra squeeze.  
“Tease,” the short haired girl laughed and took a sip of her martini. “What was the most interesting part of your excursion?”  
“All of it,” Veronica replied with a distant smile. “Maybe you can come with me next time.”  
Leila made a face, “If it involves getting dirty or anything having to do with the wilderness, you know I’m out.”  
The taller, tattooed woman laughed, “It’ll be fun! I think I‘m going to Mexico, next. You and I can go to a private beach and…” she leaned over and whispered into the girl’s ear.  
Leila blushed hotly, “Sure… let’s um…” she cleared her throat as the bartender set a beer in front of Veronica, “Let’s go to Mexico.”


End file.
